


Crystallize

by midnightplanets



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Backstory, Captivity, Comfort/Angst, Diplomacy, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, Hate to Love, Interplanetary Travel, Love/Hate, Manipulation, Negotiations, Points of View, Sexual Content, Sexual Tension, Slow Burn, Vacation
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-28
Updated: 2018-11-26
Packaged: 2018-12-07 23:56:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 17,549
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11634618
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/midnightplanets/pseuds/midnightplanets
Summary: Obi Wan Kenobi is critically injured while unexpectedly saving Asajj Ventress at the Battle of Christophsis, and falls into the enemy's grasp. Count Dooku wastes no time in seizing this opportunity to take Obi Wan as prisoner/guest on a journey to the outer rim with Ventress, to try and persuade Obi Wan to join the Separatist forces again, this time using his compassion for Ventress as leverage.While Dooku battles to sway Obi Wan's allegiance away from the Republic, he fails to see that his assassin is the one whose allegiances have changed.





	1. I Felt Sorry for You

**Author's Note:**

> I've always wanted to write a Ventrobi fic set during the Clone Wars, so this is it! Around the time of the movie and the episode "Hidden Enemies".

_Chaleydonia "Crystal City" Christophsis -  22BBY_

* * *

 

The acrid smoke from blasterfire and cannons, the churning of tank engines and clanking of metallic feet. Shouting.

Ventress opened her eyes amidst the cacophony, the battle was over, she knew, but Crystal City was no less quiet. It was dark above her, but she could see green crystals out of the corner of her eyes, as if between someone’s elbows, almost as if someone was shielding her from a blast. But that couldn’t be, no organic would rush to protect her, not even the droids were programmed to come to her aid if she was in danger. She couldn’t move, she was stuck, there was a weight on top of her but it wasn’t rigid or sharp like the crystals, it felt warm, soft, she inhaled deeply and a tuft of hair flew up towards her nose –

She gasped and cried out in surprise, using the Force to push the unwanted being off of her, and it groaned a gut-wrenching groan of pain.

“Kenobi?” she exclaimed in shock, as she got a good look at the bearded General’s face, and let him fall back down, catching him in her arms. She could feel him breathing in halting intervals, heaving heavily as if he couldn’t seem to get enough air, his breath hot on her chest.

She ran her hand down his back and drew her breath in sharply between her teeth when she found the source of his injury. A crystal, the size of her forearm, was sticking out of his back. She drew her hand back quickly, and could feel it was sticky with blood. A messy wound. It had been a while since she saw so much blood, not like the cauterized wounds from a lightsaber that she usually inflicted. Kenobi wouldn’t last long.

She was a bit disappointed that it wasn’t at her hand that the arrogant Jedi would finally perish, but knew it wasn’t too late to offer him some last words of reprimand, a lament over a life wasted in service of a corrupt order.

“The universe doesn’t reward goodness Kenobi,” she murmured, stroking the back of his head softly, as if cradling a child she was setting down to sleep, “It will take your efforts and repay them with pain. The Order lied to you when they said it’s worth it. You’ve taken it too far this time, and now you’re paying the ultimate price.”

Kenobi gripped her forearm desperately, his hands slippery with sweat, still panting.

“It’s all worth it,” he gasped, a forced smile playing on his lips, “And so are you.”

“You’re delirious,” Ventress cried out, her eyes flying open in shock. But her heart pounded with excitement against her will. It was rare that she received any sort of kind words these days, other than pandering to her military status or an appeal to get into her leggings. “You don’t even know me.”

Obi Wan was clearly struggling too much to breathe this time to offer her any sort of reply, instead he lifted his arm and grasped at her side as if in a plea for help, and grimaced, squeezing his eyes shut.

Alarmed, Ventress wasn't sure if she wanted him to live or die in that moment but she knew if she waited any longer the former wasn't going to be an option anymore. She twisted her left arm out from under him and brought her wrist comm to her lips. “I need a medical droid stat, I have a critically injured prisoner, I repeat, send in a medical droid and a stretcher, immediately!”

 

* * *

 

 

Obi Wan opened his eyes to a cavernous stone room. There was the trickling sound of a bubbling fountain, and he could feel a hard plastic mask around his mouth. His back was aching and he was in a soft hospital bed with white sheets, and before he had time to observe more of his surroundings, a metallic medical droid whirred into view, peering cheerfully over his bedside.

“Oh good, you’re awake,” it said in a chipper voice, “Mistress will be relieved to hear this.”

“Ventress was worried about me?” Obi Wan asked cautiously, as he removed the respiration mask from his face. As he lifted it off, he could see he was wearing white hospital robes, and force restraining cuffs on both of his wrists. He sighed. She was worried about him in more ways than one, apparently.

“Yes, I was worried you would start talking again and then never stop,” a voice drawled from outside in the hallway.

Ventress entered the room and looked him over with a deadpan expression. Which, given that her face was usually contorted in anger whenever she set her sights on him, he took as a good sign. She was wearing a long sleeved white shirt with black leggings and a black belt that crossed itself in the front and back, with both her lightsabers still clipped onto her belt. Obi Wan couldn’t tell if she was more worried that he almost died, or that he hadn’t died yet.

“Ventress, so nice of you to pay me a visit,” Obi Wan remarked, flashing her a thin smile. He would have normally shown her more warmth than that, except currently he was unarmed, freshly injured, and cut off from the Force, while she had two swords and actually knew where in the galaxy they were right now.

“I don’t presume you’re going to tell me where we are?” he inquired bleakly.

She smiled joylessly. “Serenno, actually,” she offered up with ease, “It’s no secret. This isn’t a military facility, it’s one of Dooku’s personal estates that he keeps under his title as Count. I think you’ll find that what he has in store for you is much more hospitable than what is given the average prisoner, in fact you’re going to be treated like an honorable guest.” She flashed her teeth, grinning mischievously now, “I’d almost be jealous, but turns out I get to be your guide.”

Obi Wan scoffed and rubbed at his force binding cuffs. “Not much hospitality in being cut off from the Living Force.”

“Oh come now Kenobi,” Ventress reproved him, crossing her arms, “Not everyone is privileged enough to have command over the Force as we do. It would be good for you to step inside their boots for a while, see how the common people live.”

Obi Wan raised an eyebrow. “I don’t suppose you have experience in this matter yourself?”

Ventress shrugged and stared off distantly. “In a way,” she said curtly, and turned toward the droid.

“Are his travelling bags packed already?” she inquired of the droid, who was lazily hovering while seeming to bob up and down, moving in a circle.

“Yes Mistress,” the droid replied cheerfully, “The patient has been bathed and cleaned will no longer require treatments in the bacta tank. I have determined him ready to be discharged, and is physically capable of space travel and all the demands of the planned trip. He may change at his convenience into any of the outfits provided in his travelling bag by Count Dooku.”

Obi Wan shuddered at the thought of wearing anything provided by Count Dooku. But he shuddered even more at the thought of emerging into rainy Serenno in nothing but his thin hospital robe, at the mercy of any gusts of wind that would blow from the mountainous terrain, and especially with Ventress there to witness and undoubtedly ridicule any wardrobe malfunctions he may have. His guide, she said? A trip, planned by the Count himself? This was all very confusing and distressing to Obi Wan, but he had no commlink, nor could he locate his lightsaber at the moment.

“You heard the droid,” Ventress remarked, nodding her head towards the droid in thanks. “As soon as you’re done dressing for your meeting with the Count, meet me in the parlor outside.”

Obi Wan’s gaze fell on a small suitcase to the left of the bed. So that was his travelling bag, he assumed. He looked back at Ventress wordlessly.

“Do you need help?” she asked him impatiently.

“No, I…,” Obi Wan stammered. He lifted his gaze to meet hers again. Round, ice-blue eyes stared back, guarded.

“I’m merely surprised you didn’t kill me,” he said at last, with a chuckle. He wrung his hands nervously, mind racing to think of a plan to get out of this strange predicament.

Ventress’s gaze flickered down for a second before meeting his again, this time her eyes steeled with restrained anger.

“I felt sorry for you,” she said shortly, clearly uncomfortable at the admission.

Obi Wan stared back at her in stunned silence.

“Now hurry up,” she snapped, “Count Dooku is waiting with dinner, and I’m starving.”

She waved her hand at the suitcase in a gesture for him to get on with it, and left the room, presumably to wait for him in the parlor.

The droid bobbed amiably around the bed, offering Obi Wan advice for travelling with his injuries, and catching him up on what kind of treatment he had received in the Count’s care since his injury. Obi Wan wondered to himself how such a dour man as the Count had ended up with such a friendly droid.

He had been all across the galaxy in many bizarre adventures with the Jedi Order, but Obi Wan had a feeling this would be the most bizarre of them all.


	2. Dinner with the Count

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ventress and Obi Wan exchange heated glances, have dinner with Dooku, and Dooku and Obi Wan talk in the rain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this has been so long in the making! I am sick with the cold today so thought it'd be the perfect opportunity to update.

Ventress knocked on the door of the medical room. 

"Obi Wan," she called out impatiently. "You almost done in there?"

Most men she knew could get dressed in under a minute. It had been two minutes. Any longer and she had to suspect he was formulating a plan to escape. She had to stay vigilant, and ensure he did not get the chance. 

"Yes, I... I'm just having trouble getting my arms into this jacket, my range of mobility seems to be..." Obi Wan's muffled voice trailed off on the other side and she could hear some frustrated grunts as he apparently struggled with a jacket.

Ventress's lips curled into an amused smile and she rolled her eyes. 

"I  _told_  you I'd be willing to help if you needed it," she teased him.

"I - " Obi Wan sighed in resignation. "Fine."

The door flew open and a flustered looking Obi Wan stood in the doorway, wearing half of an olive-green jacket made of silky material hanging off one of his shoulders, a white undershirt, and matching olive green pants in the same material. His hand was still resting on the door panel, and he was throwing Ventress a look that said I’ll-kill-you-if-you-laugh (she wasn’t sure what the Jedi equivalent was).

She stifled her laughter and instead smiled gently and reached for the side of the jacket that was hanging off his shoulder. Obi Wan watched her closely with suspicion, and his body tensed as she touched his shoulder. 

"I'm not going to hurt you, I promise," she crooned softly, not meeting his eyes but letting all her attention go to her hands, carefully and gently pulling the sleeve down so that it hung at his wrist. 

She held the jacket in one hand and released the other. She looked up at Obi Wan, who was looking humiliated and bewildered. She smiled to herself. He was clearly upset that she had to see him in such an undignified state. Oh, she could have so much fun teasing him about this later. But presently she saw an irresistible opportunity to humiliate him even further. 

"I'm guessing you don't want to turn your back on me, so I'll spare you the anxiety. Now, if I may..." she drew her body flush against his, her arms reaching around his body to grab the other side of the jacket she was still holding out behind him. 

This time she did hear a small gasp from Kenobi, and it was exquisite. She reached around for the jacket, squeezing him slightly in her efforts. His body was soft underneath the thin undershirt, and she could feel his heat, his heart pounding and ribcage rising and falling with every small breath while pressed against her chest. As she got a hold on the jacket with both her hands, she drew back slightly and straightened up, holding it out behind him. 

"There," she murmured, "Now stick your hands back and I'll help you get into these sleeves."

Kenobi rotated back his shoulders so that his arms were both behind him, exposing the broad plane of his chest, and she slipped the sleeves of the jacket over his hands. She then tugged the jacket on him, sliding both arms up at the same time, until she drew it up over his shoulders and straightened it out in front of him. 

As she stepped back, she was able to see the style of the jacket, high collared and straight bodied, and chuckled. 

"You look like a miniature Count Dooku," she remarked as she smoothed out the front, running her hand over his chest, and began working on the buttons. 

"I, ah, I can do that myself," Obi Wan hastily remarked and lifted her hands off the front of his jacket. He stepped back and began fastening the closures himself, keeping his head down, but Ventress could tell he was blushing. Her heart soared in elation and triumph, and her mouth spread into a wicked grin.

But it didn’t last long. As Obi Wan finished buttoning up the jacket, she found herself missing the warmth of his body that was no longer against hers.

She took a few deep breaths to get herself under control.  _I am on a diplomatic mission on behalf of the Confederacy of Independent Systems. This is my prisoner. By all means, I_ cannot _fall for him._

She broke from her train of thought when Obi Wan cleared his throat. Running his hands down the front of his jacket to smooth it out, he straightened up and gave her a reluctant smile. 

"Thank you, for your... assistance," he said, inclining his head. "I'm ready now."

Ventress stepped forward and took his arm with her hand, turned so they were side-by-side, and guided him forward. 

"Good. I'll escort you there."

She felt a sense of comfort as she felt his warmth under her fingers again. 

 

* * *

 

They walked in silence until they reached the repulsorlift. Ventress kept her hand on Obi Wan’s arm the entire time, until the doors were securely shut in front of them, and then she let go to punch in the number for the 16th floor of Dooku's castle, their destination. Obi Wan felt like he finally had a chance to breath again once he no longer felt the soft pressure of her fingers, it was as if they had a power to keep him from thinking straight. He was even more grateful that when she stood back at his side, she adopted the reserved poise of a dignitary, standing up straight with her hands clasped in front of her, her distance making it easier for him to concentrate on the task at hand – escape.

First, he closed his eyes to try and meditate for a moment.

But when he closed his eyes, he just saw Ventress. Her thin, lithe body that had felt so small and delicate against his. The tight black leggings that hugged the curve of her hips, and the puckers of the fabric as it stretched taut against the softness of her legs. The mounds of her breasts that had pressed up against him only moments ago, plush and soft, softer than he had imagined any part of her could have been -

Obi Wan’s eyes opened in a flash and he shook his head, rubbing his eyes to try and free himself from thoughts of her. He was a Jedi Master. A member of the council. A General of Grand Army of the Republic. He was in the middle of a war, in the middle of a battle, his troops needed him, _Anakin_ needed him, he _had_ to figure out a way to get out of here! Obi Wan started looking around the repulsorlift for avenues of escape, loose panels, air vents… but then his eyes fell on her again.

He didn’t even know why he had saved her just that he had gone against all reason to do so. _Feel, don’t think_ , his Master had taught him, and so he had acted before he thought, almost died trying to save an enemy and against all odds, she had saved him in return. Did that still make them enemies? He wasn’t sure anymore. Somehow things were a lot more clear when Ventress used to glare at him with murder in her eyes, not like they are now with her soft words, and fingers that once more wrapped themselves around his arm.

“You’re awfully quiet,” she remarked.

“I’m confused,” he admitted, and turned towards her, gazing into her eyes, crystal blue and somber now. His eyes drifted to her lips, full and plush but chapped from lack of care, and then back up to her pensive eyes. “What are we now?”

She drew ever so slightly closer to him and furrowed her brow, a pleading look in her eyes. “Do we have to put a name to it?” she whispered.

Obi Wan’s heart pounded. Was she referring to them saving each other’s lives, or what happened back in the medical bay?

“Oh, I mean, I was referring to –“ Obi Wan stammered, trying to find a delicate way to clarify what he meant, but failing.

Ventress’s expression soured and she grabbed him by the wrist, raising his forearm in front of his face, with the sleeve pulled back to exposed an obnoxiously glowing Force cuff.

“Prisoner,” she declared. “You’re my prisoner, I’m your captor. That’s what we are,” and she dropped his arm gracelessly.

Obi Wan sighed and rubbed his wrist. “Never mind,” he scowled, as the door slid open on the 16th floor.

 

* * *

 

“Count, Ventress and the prisoner have arrived,” a silver plated protocol droid announced from the far end of the dining table.

Seated at the head of the table, Count Dooku gave his wine glass a lazy swirl before setting it down again. “Let them in,” he instructed, and stood up to await them.

 

Dooku had been furious when Ventress had announced she had taken a prisoner. She had prostrated herself on the floor in front of him, apologizing profusely for not following orders, but explaining that Kenobi could give them useful intel, and then all her words were drowned out by screams as he lashed out at her with a steady stream of Force Lightning.

“I hired you to be an assassin, Ventress, not to save the life of the man who almost ruined everything I’ve worked for!” Ventress’s sobs echoed throughout the stone chamber of his office.

“Give me one good reason I shouldn’t kill you now,” he had threatened her. 

“He… saved me…” Ventress managed to croak.

“He’s a Jedi, that’s what they do,” Dooku narrowed his eyes impatiently. 

“He almost died but said it was worth it. To save me.” Ventress said, more coherent now.

Dooku stared at her for a long hard while until it dawned on him what she was getting at.

“He has feelings for you,” Dooku concluded, arching an eyebrow, and then smiled. “How quaint.”

But then his eyes travelled to the lightsabers clipped to Ventress’s belt. He thought of their former owner and then in an instant he was filled with grief, rage, guilt. And he lashed out at Ventress with another bolt.

 

The doors to the dining hall opened and Ventress walked in with Obi Wan Kenobi, the Jedi dressed sharper than Dooku had ever seen him, and Dooku spread his arms in welcome.

“Kenobi, welcome. I hope you can forgive me for how barbaric your accommodations were during your last stay with me, I assure you this time it’ll be much different.”

Kenobi’s eyes narrowed suspiciously, but he inclined his head in a gesture of respect, as Ventress folded herself in a full bow in his presence.

“Thank you Count, my stay so far has been hospitable,” Kenobi admitted, “But why the sudden change?” the Jedi inquired, with a curious glint in his eye.

Dooku broke out into a warm grin. “Why, she’s standing right next to you,” he replied, and gestured towards Ventress.

Ventress, now standing upright, stiffened and blushed despite her best efforts. Kenobi raised his eyebrows and grinned at her in amusement.

“Ventress, you spoil me,” Kenobi teased her.

Ventress’s hands balled into fists at her side as if it were taking all her effort not to punch him. She glared at him.

Dooku laughed heartily. “Isn’t she a gem,” he remarked. “It was a pleasant and unexpected surprise to learn that you had saved my assassin’s life. Think of my hospitality as a way of saying thanks. Come, no need to continue with the formalities. I’m sure you both are hungry.” Dooku gestured to a place setting on either side of him, and Ventress sat to his right while Kenobi took the place on his left.

“Please, dig in,” the Count invited them, “The menu is cubed kajaka root and nerf steaks with a garnish of spinach.”

Ventress lifted her silverware and cut herself a few slices of steak. When she looked over at Obi Wan and noticed he was still suspiciously eyeing his food, she sighed.

“Obi Wan, we did not nurse you back to health just to poison you. Look.” Ventress reached over and snagged a piece of his kajaka root, and shoved it in her mouth. She started chewing and made a grand gesture. “See? Not poisoned.”

“Please forgive my apprentice for talking with her mouth full,” Dooku chuckled and apologized for her, “But yes, I assure you the food is absolutely poison and drug free. It has not been tampered with in any way. I am feeding you as if I were feeding myself. Now please Kenobi, you need to eat, it is important for your recovery.”

Obi Wan smiled tersely, and nodded, and began slicing a piece of steak for himself. Two pieces in, he conceded and apologized, “You’re right, thank you. Sorry for my hesitation. This will take some… getting used to,” he said, gesturing to the other people at the table.

Dooku inclined his head and smiled. “Thank you for giving us a chance to prove to you we can be civil as well. You must know by now what we have in store for you.”

“Travel plans, I hear, but I do not know to where.”

“Ventress’s homeworld, Rattatak,” Dooku answered, and watched the two exchange surprised and exasperated glances respectively.

“There is a lack of understanding between the Separatists and the Republic. I will send you to Rattatak with Ventress so that you can see firsthand life on the outer rim, and why they feel the way they do about the Republic and the Jedi.”

Obi Wan eyed the room suspiciously. “That sounds awfully reasonable Count. What’s the catch?”

“There is no catch. We just want understanding,” Dooku said while lifting his glass of wine. “To understanding.” He said as a toast.

“To understanding,” the others responded in tandem, and each took a sip of their wine. Dooku was the only one who drank heavily.  

The dinnertime conversation was mostly between Dooku and Ventress, small talk about whether the castle looked better with or without ivy growing on the outside, Dooku’s relatives coming to visit a few weeks ago, a new luxury speeder that was just released (the only one of those topics that Obi Wan seemed remotely interested in).

Then as everyone’s plates were cleared, Dooku turned to Ventress.

“Ventress, if you will excuse us for a moment. I would like to take a walk with Kenobi in the garden and discuss something in private. I’ll comm you when we are finished and you can escort him to his quarters.”

“Of course, Master,” she bowed in reverence, although she looked confused, and escorted herself out the door. Dooku noticed Obi Wan watching her longingly, as if he didn’t want her to leave him alone with the Count.

“Don’t worry Kenobi, I just need to have a talk with you. Man to man.”

 

* * *

 

The gardens were lined with tall hedges, shaped in all sorts of creative ways. Dark metallic benches with ornate swirls for arms and legs dotted the path as far as the eye could see. Then the hedge turned, as if like a maze. Dark gray skies loomed overhead, and in the center of the hedge maze, rose a singular black iron statue of a maiden, holding two swords crossed in front of her. Obi Wan shivered a bit from the cold, but he’d sooner turn into an ice cube than admit it to the Count.

“You’re probably wondering why I wanted to talk to you in private,” the Count began.

“You’d be right,” Obi Wan remarked, humorlessly. “What is it?”

“I once had a Padawan, other than your Master,” Dooku continued, and Obi Wan felt his gut twist in rage.

_You dare speak of my Master and yet you joined the very order that killed him!_ Obi Wan wanted to shout. But he let his rage flow over him, and the feeling passed.

“Is it someone I know?” Obi Wan asked, impatient to get out of the cold. Dooku was leading them into the hedge maze. Obi Wan hoped Dooku knew the way out.

“No, she was gone and lost a long time ago.” Dooku clarified. “Her name was Komari Vosa. Ventress has her lightsabers now, although she doesn’t know the full story. I would appreciate it if you didn’t tell her, either.”

“Why are you trusting me with this information,” Obi Wan asked, and their voices became more and more muffled the deeper they got into the maze. Obi Wan looked overhead and saw circling crows. But otherwise, he and the Count were completely isolated and alone.

“Because I am afraid history is going to repeat itself,” the Count warned, inauspiciously.

“What happened to her,” Obi Wan demanded, “Those sabers are red. Ventress has already devoted herself to the dark side. What else is there to the story?”

“Smart lad,” Dooku chuckled. “Yes, Komari did fall to the dark side. But before that, there was something that I and the council failed her in. We were foolish, afraid. And what we did was far worse than what would have been if we had just let things take their natural course, let things be.”

Dooku stopped and turned to Obi Wan. His eyes were an intense gray, and stormy with emotion. “Komari had feelings for me. A Padawan crush, most likely benign. But I, being the devoted Jedi I was, felt the need to report this to the council and she was banished from the order so that her attraction would not compromise her in battle, when the time came.”

Dooku closed his eyes and drew in a deep breath. “Nonetheless, she joined the Jedi forces on Baltizaar, where they were all but massacred, and she was presumed dead. But I knew she was not. I would have felt it. It was the Sith Lord who told me she was still alive. But when I found her she was a broken shell of a person, she had lost her mind, turned to the dark side, was a pirate queen of murder. I was forced to kill her. With my own hands.”

Dooku leaned forward and grabbed Obi Wan by the shoulders. “Do you know what it’s like?” he pleaded, his voice thin. “To kill your own Padawan?”

“I’m sorry, Count,” Obi Wan sympathized, his mind reeling, teeth chattering now from the cold. It was difficult to reconcile the Count standing in front of him with the Jedi Master he had been told he once was. Above them, the sky grew darker and clouds swirled, threatening rain.

“I see things in Ventress that remind me of my old Padawan,” Dooku continued, letting go of Obi Wan, looking haggard and weary from recounting the story of his old Padawan. “She too, has feelings for a Jedi. And I worry that this Jedi, in his rush to uphold all the tenants of the code, may in the end do more harm than good for the galaxy as a result. Ventress is very dangerous, I think you have already realized this.”

Obi Wan felt his throat go dry. “Who is this Jedi?” he whispered, hoarsely.

Dooku seemed to grow in size by the sheer force of his rage. As if in response, the skies lit up with lightning and rain began to fall in heavy drops.

Dooku grabbed Obi Wan by the shoulders, so hard he almost yelped in pain, and shook him. “It’s you, you imbecile!” Dooku bellowed in his deep, resonant voice. “It’s you!”

Obi Wan was too stunned to respond, he only stood there shivering now both from the cold and the rain, in the grasp of an angry Sith Lord, in the middle of a hedge maze.

“I understand,” he acknowledged, and gently removed the Sith’s fingers from his now soaked jacket. “If you don’t mind, I would like to go inside now. I’m afraid I might catch a cold.”

Dooku nodded solemnly, and Obi Wan couldn’t tell if there were tears streaming from his eyes, or if it was just the rain.

As Obi Wan followed Dooku out, he saw the statue of the maiden, streaked with rain. She looked like she was either crying, or bleeding out, or both. He knew all of a sudden, why Dooku had brought him there.

 

* * *

 

Ventress was aghast when she saw the state Obi Wan was in.

“He promised he wouldn’t try and kill you,” she muttered, horrified, as she quickly led him by the arm again to his room. It was a small room, with stone floors and a dark green and orange rug, a canopy bed with rich red blankets, and a black dresser. She ran past all that to the fresher where she grabbed two fluffy white towels, and rushed over to the bed where Obi Wan was attempting to remove his waterlogged boots. She draped one of the towels around his shoulders and used the other to furiously start toweling off his hair.

“Oof, Ventress, thank you, but, that’s quite alright,” he said, grabbing her wrists to stop her attempt at drying him.

She sighed and draped that one across his shoulders too. When his face came into view again, she saw that he was _grinning_ , positively beaming at her from beneath his stringy tousled wet hair.

“If you get sick while we’re travelling I will be very irate,” she warned him. “I’m going to the common room to start a fire. Change into some dry clothes and meet me out there immediately when you’re ready.”

“Yes, Mistress, roger roger,” he saluted her mockingly, and she wasn’t sure if she wanted to laugh or punch him.

She scowled at him, and slammed the door control shut behind her.

It was killing Ventress not knowing what Dooku wanted to talk to Obi Wan about. _Clearly_ it was about her, otherwise why bother dismissing her? Were the two conspiring against her? Did Dooku want to replace her with Obi Wan now? She shook her head. Ridiculous. Obi Wan would never join the Sith. He was just _that_ type of Jedi. How would she find out then, hmmm… a mind probe was an option, but there would be no way she could do that without him finding out and potentially being very mad at her. If she did it in the castle, Dooku might even find out. She had to at least wait until they had left the planet. She had to be patient, the Sith were all about patience, right?

While she waited for Obi Wan to clean up, she started the fireplace and ordered a droid to bring tea. Another droid brought out two blankets, and she wrapped one around herself and curled up in a corner of the couch closest to the fire and closed her eyes. Her muscles still ached from the Force Lightning the day before. But she wouldn’t bother Obi Wan with that detail. It would only reveal her own worthlessness and weakness.

She wasn’t even sure this Rattatak plan would work. She just had to think of something, _anything_ to say to Dooku to make him okay with the fact that she saved Kenobi. And turning him to their cause via her tragic backstory on Rattatak seemed to meet the Count’s approval. If it didn’t work… Ventress didn’t even want to think about it. She _would_ make Obi Wan see, the way people suffer on the outer rim, the way the Republic and the Jedi do nothing for them...

“Ventress?” she heard a voice pipe up from the doorway, and she sat up. Obi Wan was dressed in light green fleece pajamas, hair freshly combed, looking much more relaxed than when he first came in from the rain, disheveled and distressed.

“What happened to ‘Mistress’?,” she teased with a smile.

“Whichever you prefer,” he replied, looking relieved now that he saw her.

“Call me Asajj,” she blurted out before she realized what she was saying. She felt her face grow hot. “We’re going to know each other pretty well by the time this whole thing is over. Might as well be on first name basis now.”

He smiled in return and took the couch opposite her, laying a blanket over his lap and admiring the fire. “Thanks, Asajj, for everything you’ve done for me today. You’re the best captor a prisoner could ask for.” Then his face lit up when he saw the tea kettle. “And you made tea!”

“Not me, the droid,” she corrected him, slightly disturbed that he used their relationship as captor and prisoner so casually. _Even if it’s true…_ “But feel free to help yourself. It’s bedtime tea. Helps you sleep. We’re going to need it these next few days while we’re travelling.”

Obi Wan had a curious look on his face, as he poured himself tea, the firelight gleaming off his wet hair and beard. Ventress could feel a warmth and sadness radiating off him in the Force.

“I would ask you what’s wrong but I think I have a pretty good idea,” Ventress remarked.

“You probably do,” he agreed.

Ventress was at a loss for words, so they sat in silence for a while, listening to the crackling of the firewood. Ventress stood up with the blanket still wrapped around her, and sat down next to Obi Wan on his couch.

“You can call me a friend, you know,” she spoke, finally. “If it’s not too strange to you.”

“Thank you,” Obi Wan responded, smiling gently at her. “I think we’re a bit strange, but we do the best we can given our situation.”

“I’m glad,” Ventress said sleepily, leaning her head on Obi Wan’s shoulder and closing her eyes.

She felt him wrap his arm around her, and lay his cheek on her head. He kissed the top of her head, which was strangely intimate against her bare scalp. She wrapped her arms around his waist and tucked herself into him tighter, laying her head on his chest now, hearing his heartbeat like a steady pulse lulling her to sleep. Oddly enough, in the arms of her former enemy, she felt truly safe.


	3. Lose My Breath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Obi Wan attempts to escape. It isn't long before the two form a new kind of relationship...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just when you think all is well in ship-land, SOMEONE has to ruin it. In this case, it's Obi Wan. Or is it ruined...? 
> 
> (Things get a bit spicy in this chapter, nothing too explicit but thought I'd up the rating just in case. ^^*)

He was fairly certain she was asleep. 

 

Ventress’s arms had fallen lax around his waist and her breathing was a rhythmic rise and fall against his chest. 

 

Obi Wan lightly ran his fingers up and down her arm. She seemed to take no notice.  _ Asleep... _

 

In all honesty, part of him  _ wanted  _ to go with her to Rattatak. Her actions today confirmed what he had suspected, that she was not so far gone, that there was still good and caring left in her. His curiosity longed to know what it was that had sent this seemingly logical and kind girl over the edge, had her pledge herself to the Sith and be transformed into an instrument for murder. He could sense her loneliness even without the Force, her confusion as to why Obi Wan had risked his life to save her, her desperation for someone to call a friend, so much so that she seemed to think it was possible even in their current state as captor and prisoner, that she could truly call him friend while at the same time separating him from everything he had devoted his entire life to. 

 

Obi Wan grimaced at the thought of never seeing his friends and family at the Jedi temple again. No, he would return, he was sure of it. As much as he cared for Ventress, there was no way this little excursion they were taking could possibly change his ideals so much as to join the Separatists under Count Dooku, a man whom he so despised, who had cut off his padawan's arm and tried to kill him on multiple occasions! It was outrageous and ridiculous for the Count to think this could possibly work. Obi Wan was trained since birth to not let attachments get in the way of his judgment, and his concern for Ventress was no different. He would not be swayed.

 

Obi Wan studied Ventress's cranial tattoos in the firelight, contemplated the amount of pain she had willingly put herself through to get them there, how much pain she continued to put herself through in studying the ways of the dark side - how much she must be immune to at this point. 

He didn't want to hurt her, especially given their current position, entwined around each other sitting peacefully by the fire, but it looked like he had no other choice if he wanted both of them to emerge from this debacle alive. He'd have to hurt her, both emotionally, and physically.

 

_ I hope in the grand scheme of things, darling, this will not hurt you too much, then... _ Obi Wan thought, as he gazed at her sleeping peacefully, probably for the last time that night.

 

He took a deep breath, and carefully snaked his arm around her neck, hovering so that her throat was inches away from the crook of his elbow. Then in a swift motion, he pulled back, and squeezed.

 

Ventress awoke in an instant, choking and grunting noises coming from her mouth, her fingers splayed and arms flailing out everywhere, grabbing at his arms, slapping his legs, reaching back to grab at his face, while Obi Wan's stomach twisted and his heart sank, angry with himself for what he had to do. He tried to avoid her strikes, leaning in to whisper in her ear, "Shh, shh, I'm sorry darling, I'm not going to kill you, this will just be temporary, just for a moment, I'm sorry -" 

 

Then he cried out in surprise as he flipped upside down and over her shoulder, finding himself on the ground lying flat on his back.  _ Oh no _ , he thought  _ This did not go according to plan _ , as he saw Ventress rise angrily above him like a shadow, and grab him roughly by the arm, swiftly turning him over and digging her knee into his back, pulling his arm up behind him to press down on his elbow in a direction that it did not bend. He grunted in pain and blinked the stars away from his eyes. 

 

“You,” she grit out in a raspy voice, “Are a liar, a betrayer of trust, and a slimy double-crosser,” spitting out every insult so that it dug like hooks under Obi Wan's skin.

 

“I need to get back,” Obi Wan pleaded, writhing in an attempt to break free, “The Republic needs me. The Order will come looking for me, and I don’t want you to get caught in the middle of all this. Better I part ways with you as soon as possible, to keep you out of danger.”

 

“What part of this do you think is not already dangerous for myself?” Ventress bent over to hiss in his ear, “Unlike the Jedi who punish failures with a mere lecture and meditation time, my life is on the line with everything I do, and I  _ will  _ fulfill my mission.”

 

She yanked him up to his feet, grabbing his arm, and started marching him to his room.

 

“Well I hate to break it to you, but I don’t intend on joining the Separatists, even if you do make a compelling argument for Republic neglect on the Outer Rim. Believe it or not, I am aware of such things,” Obi Wan informed her.

 

“Then you’re even more despicable than I had assumed,” Ventress spat, not bothering to turn around and look at him. “And stupid. You think Dooku will let you live if you don’t turn?”

 

“Still care about my life, then, do you?” Obi Wan tested her with a smirk. He wanted to see just how safe he was now, after his unsuccessful escape attempt. 

 

Ventress stopped abruptly and turned to glare at him, leering so she was only inches away from his face. “You saved me, I save you. That's all it is." Her blue eyes glistened with intensity. "Although if you pull any more stunts like the one you just did, I may reconsider it."

 

Maybe it was the adrenaline, or maybe it was the ghost of the warmth of her body against his, but Obi Wan was feeling stupidly brave right now. He looked her straight in the eyes and drew even closer. She seemed startled, and the rage abated from her eyes for a moment, replaced with surprise. He searched her eyes and asked softly, "Are you sure that's all it is?"

 

There was a pause where neither of them said anything. Ventress looked flabbergasted, and Obi Wan was watching her intently, readying himself to run or defend himself if she chose to respond violently. 

 

Her expression seemed to soften for a moment, and she looked tired, defeated, lonely. Her eyes seemed to swim with emotion and pain, and she looked like she was about to confess something, "I..." she trailed off and sighed in frustration. 

 

"Darling, you can tell me anything," Obi Wan encouraged her, breaking her gaze for a moment to look down, find her hand, pale and illuminated by the dim blue hallway lights, and slowly, shakily, take it in his own. She didn't resist, and he looked up at her again, with what he deemed to be a kind and inviting smile. 

 

She gazed at him in wonder for a moment, lips slightly parted, breathing softly and evenly as if calmed by his touch. "I think..." she spoke softly, and brought his hand up in front of her, taking his hand in both of hers carefully, "That..." 

 

She raised her voice, "You sure are full of yourself, Kenobi." And she dropped his hand unceremoniously with a smirk on her face. 

 

She quickly clamped her fingers around his arm again and continued dragging him across the common room. Obi Wan sighed. He should have known it wouldn't be as easy as that to get Asajj to open up to him, and to confirm for himself whether Dooku's theory that she had feelings for him was true. But at least she seemed to be in better spirits now that he had thoroughly embarrassed himself. That might be a good thing to keep in mind if he was to survive his travels with her in the near future.

 

Asajj brought him to the doorway to his room. The door was still open. She released her grip on his arm and waited expectantly for him to go inside his room. Obi Wan didn't move. 

 

"I have to lock you in, you know," she explained, dourly. 

 

"I know," Obi Wan said with a sigh. He looked back up at her. "I'm really sorry, Asajj. I wish I hadn't done that. After all the kindness you had shown to me today."

 

"You're only sorry because you failed and were caught." Asajj replied matter-of-factly, no hint of resentment in her voice, surprisingly. She crossed her arms across her chest. "Now get inside. I'm tired." 

 

Obi Wan searched for a response but he found none. He knew she was right. He searched for another reason to stall, another possible way he could stay outside a locked room, his prison cell. The dark room looked lonely and suffocating. 

 

"What are you waiting for Kenobi?" Asajj demanded impatiently. Then her lips spread in a devilish grin. "Hoping I'd give you a goodnight kiss?"

 

"No, I, ah, I wasn't waiting for -", Obi Wan felt a jolt of panic rush through his body, and quickly stepped to the other side of the doorframe, "I mean only if you..." 

 

He had already embarrassed himself so much today and didn't feel up for another one of her games. Much to his dismay, Ventress didn't give up that easily. She walked forward and wrapped her arms around his neck and looked deeply and soulfully into his bewildered eyes before closing her eyes, tilting her head, and planting her soft, plush lips onto his in a slow, soft kiss.

 

They both drew in sharp breaths all at once, and both knew at that moment that they each had lost. She didn't stop there however, and quickly and swiftly took his mouth again, sliding her tongue in between his lips to slip against his, her sudden passion and energy sending pleasant chills throughout Obi Wan's body and making his stomach flip, and before he knew it he had grabbed her waist to draw her in closer to him - but then she broke away. 

 

Staring at him with glistening eyes, mouth parted in a small smile and breathing heavily, Ventress slowly wiped her mouth all while looking him in the eyes, and just grinned. "Goodnight my dear Obi Wan," she drawled sultrily, before mercilessly palming the door shut so that it slid in to place right in front of Obi Wan's nose, blocking out his vision of her, blocking out the light from the hallway, leaving him alone in darkness. 

 

Obi Wan let out a sigh of exasperation, both at himself for losing control and at Ventress for being an insufferable tease as always. He ran his hand through his hair and wondered how he was going to survive an extended vacation alone with that woman, especially if she was going to keep acting the way she did, pulling him along on a string, dangling her attraction to him as bait but pulling away before they could each get a chance to satisfy themselves - but he had barely turned around and started walking towards his bed when he heard the door slide open again. 

 

Ventress sprang at him before he had time to make any sly remarks, taking his head in her hands and pressing him roughly into her mouth again for a messy and fiercely passionate kiss. Then she palmed the door shut behind them.  

 

 

* * *

  
  
  


Her throat still ached where he had clamped down on her. She hated him for how completely and utterly he had violated her hard earned trust. How he made her weak when he kissed her scalp. How he was comfortable to lean against. Smelled nice. Had great hair. She hated him so much. She hated him still now as they stumbled in the dark, pulling off each other's clothes in between hungry kisses and greedy hands exploring each other's bodies. Hated him as she pushed him onto the bed, where he lay propped up on his elbows, his hair a disheveled mess, lips swollen and red, glistening and wet, parted in breathless ecstasy, eyes sparkling with anticipation. As she knelt and straddled him, felt his warm arms around her as she pulled him up to kiss him gently on the forehead. 

 

The first kiss was meant to add insult to injury after his failed escape attempt. She wanted to make sure he knew, he was prisoner not only in war but in his helpless attraction to her, and she held the power to give him nothing, or just enough to leave him maddeningly frustrated, hungry for more, testing his ironclad Jedi willpower. 

 

But she didn't expect to enjoy it so much. Although she must admit she was curious to find out if she would. What it would feel like to kiss the Jedi. As the telltale gasp had escaped her lips, she tried to cover it up by cranking up the voltage and giving him more, but it only made him do the same, and grab her waist in such a sensual possessive gesture - how  _ dare  _ he think he had the right after what he pulled - she had to break away before she lost her composure completely and did something that could embarrass herself instead. Which she did anyways. 

 

Despite their sweet words and teasing, Ventress had never actually expected to be in bed with the Jedi. She had expected one or the other would have killed each other first, as their duties had so often mandated. She was grateful, then, for this odd mission she was being sent on now that even permitted this to happen. 

 

They didn't do much talking, both moving to a rapid cadence with the voracity of one who was half-starved and finally given relief. She could sense from Kenobi that he felt the same way about it she did. Guilty pleasure. Keep this secret. She didn't know how he learned to be such a good lover but she didn't care to find out. 

 

She clamped her mouth down on his as he came, feeling his moans vibrate in her throat, muffled sounds that only they could hear, an extra layer of concealment to guard their secret, as did the blankets over them and the darkness cloaking the night. She came soon after, and he smiled, rubbed her back in appreciation before she rolled off him to the side and curled up, her chin resting on his shoulder, arm across his chest. He kissed her forehead. She kissed his shoulder in return.

 

After a moment Obi Wan propped himself up on his elbow and faced her, dragging his fingers lightly against her throat. She closed her eyes and enjoyed the tingles it sent throughout her body. 

 

"Does it still hurt?" he whispered, and she opened her eyes to see his brows knitted in concern.

 

"It's fading," she said with a weak smile. 

 

His eyes looked pained, and he leaned in for a slow, soft kiss, cradling the back of her head in his hand. 

 

"Are you going back to your room?" he asked this time, with a pitiable look in his eyes. 

 

"What would you like?" Ventress asked, propping herself up on her elbow to face him, and reaching out to play with the strands of hair that were falling over his forehead. 

 

"Stay," he pleaded, and took her hand, closing his eyes as he kissed it. 

 

Ventress smiled and adjusted her hand to interlace their fingers. "I can stay," she conceded. 

 

She was then enveloped in a warm embrace as he held her tightly, clinging to her like she was his life support. And then she realized, she _was_ his life support right now. It was totally under her control whether he lived or died during this captivity. And while the thought of being in control of someone else's life or death hadn't scared her for a long time, now it did. Kenobi was... special. In a way she couldn't quite pinpoint, and didn't want to lose.

 

_ I  _ am  _ fear _ , she reminded herself, and let herself drift off to sleep, feelings of loss and despair intermingling at the base of her skull, swirling together and joining the ice cold churn of constant anxiety that was her force aura, a frantic array of emotion and bewilderment that she had been taught to harness for her strength. _ I am fear _ .


	4. But what future will we have?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Grappling with the aftermath of their actions the night before, Obi Wan and Ventress embark on their journey and try not to be too awkward.

Obi Wan woke up, staring up at an unfamiliar crimson canopy, confused for a groggy moment before the events of the night before came back to him, rushing back in a wave like blood coming back into a limb that had been numb, uncomfortable and stinging. He looked over to his left, wondering, hoping to see her there. Nothing. He was alone. He sighed, smoothing the empty spot in the sheets next to him, the spot where she had lay the night before when he had asked her to stay. _Never expect a Sith to keep their promise,_ he thought to himself, as he swung his legs off the bed, cool air hitting his naked body and he shivered and wrapped his arms around himself, trying to brush off the goosebumps as the warmth of the sheets faded, just like his companion in the night.

His footsteps padded across the cold stone floors as he walked towards the refresher. When the door slid open, he was hit with a burst of moisture, warmth and blossoming light.

"You're excused," Ventress grumbled in irritation, wrapping a towel around herself as she glowered at him. Her skin was wet, and the mirror was fogged up with steam. So she had stayed, after all. The thought brought him some small comfort. Although he was confused as to why she was covering herself up now, after the events of last night.

"Asajj, there you are, and here I was thinking you had left," he greeted her jovially, voice still soft from sleep.

"I always keep my word," she frowned, chin lifted high in defiance. "Now if you'll excuse me."

She tried to slide past Obi Wan, turning sideways as she approached the doorway. Obi Wan frowned and put his hands on her shoulders, craning his neck to peer into her eyes, brows furrowed in concern.

"Is everything alright darling?" he asked her, rubbing his fingers up and down on her shoulders. "Are you upset about - what happened last night?"

Ventress sighed and her irritation seemed to melt just a bit. "I'm fine, I just need to go to work now," she answered, opaquely.

"Go to work, does that mean you're not at work right now?" Obi Wan pried, amused. "I thought I was your work."

Ventress gritted her teeth. "You _are_ but I have to be careful so that _this_ \- " she prodded Obi Wan in the chest with her pointer finger " - doesn't get too confusing," she bit out, "And dangerous, for the both of us."

"Are you in trouble?" Obi Wan asked, suddenly filled with concern. He wasn’t sure if Dooku would punish her or reassign her if he found out about what had happened between them. As lethal as she was, he'd much rather deal with Ventress than whoever else Dooku would send to deal with him, as she and him had at least built up some rapport, if you could even call it that. His chest tightened against his will at the thought of being separated from her.

"No, I won't be in _trouble_ , not with Dooku anyways, I just don't like to mix work with pleasure," she admitted, looking slightly embarrassed.

"So I was a pleasure then, I'm honored," Obi Wan smirked, as he swaggered up to her and drew her in even closer against him.

The finger against his chest became more pointed as she jabbed him with her nails.

"Shut. Up." She hissed, bringing her face closer to his. "If you dare talk like that in front of Dooku, I swear I will cut out your tongue."

"I think you like my tongue," Obi Wan breathed suggestively, relishing as a bewildered look crept across her face. Before she could react he bent in for a kiss and slipped his tongue between her lips, delighting as he felt her sharply suck in air for a gasp.

She pulled away, muttering what he assumed were curses in a language he didn't recognize, and raised her hand as if she was about to slap him. He flinched, preparing himself for the hit, but she changed her mind and just lowered her hand, balling it into a fist as she growled indignantly.

"I'm getting dressed," she gritted out between her teeth, and pushed him away to stalk towards the door. "Clean up," she commanded, as she looked him over with a smirk, and briskly shut the door.

 

Obi Wan ran a hand through his beard, letting out a sigh. Now he was alone again, but in the mood Ventress seemed to be in, it was probably for the best. He somehow figured out how to turn on the faucet, and stepped into the shower stall. He let the warm water run over him, washing away any proof of what happened last night, any trace of her scent. He ran his fingers through his hair, lathered up with whatever shampoo Dooku or Ventress had left in there for him. It smelled like lavender.

With time to himself to think, his mind went into strategy mode. He'd be embarking on his visit to Rattatak today, which meant - transit. The best possible time to escape. But was it worth trying to escape after his failed attempt yesterday? Was it worth the risk, disregarding Dooku's words of warning about what might happen if he didn’t take Ventress’s feelings for him seriously? He still didn't even know if Dooku was telling the truth. Did she really have feelings for him? Last night could have just been a fluke, maybe she was into one-night stands, he didn’t know. He didn't want to assume he was _special_ , it could be dangerous to make assumptions under these circumstances. He had to tread extremely carefully.

He didn't have to make a decision now. Anytime they were flying he could try and sneak over to reprogram the navicom coordinates. He might as well board the ship with her. If he was lucky he could even take her with him, and they could... they could what? Go back to Coruscant and put her on trial for military crimes? Leave her to rot in jail while he visited once in a while, just to see her grow more and more miserable and watch her waste away? He shuddered at the thought. _I don't know_ , he thought. _What future is there for us together? There might not be any hope. The most I can hope for is for her to turn back to the light and leave Dooku in the past. She'd need to find somewhere safe to hide, Dooku would surely hunt her..._ He shook his head. There was no use in speculation, and his thoughts were going off like a runaway train.

Her future seemed bleak at first glance, he admitted to himself, and surely most of the council would think that way. It was too late for her to turn her life around. They would all give up on her, as they almost did for Anakin. His heart swelled in pride and indignance as he thought of how far his padawan had come, how prodigious and irreplaceable he was now to the Jedi Order. And he would never have been there if Qui Gonn hadn't given him a chance. Maybe he could be to Ventress what Qui Gonn had been to Anakin. Maybe he could be that someone that still believed in her. _They don't know her like I do now,_ he thought, _There is good in her, and kindness, and a part of her that is not filled with rage, if I could just show her that her view of the Jedi is misguided..._

He heard a loud series of knocks on the refresher door, breaking his concentration Then a sound of the door sliding open. "I'm ready whenever you are," he heard Ventress say in a singsong voice. She sounded amused and in better spirits. He couldn't help be slightly suspicious of what had made her so happy all of a sudden.

"I'll be right there," he called out, washing the last of the soap off his body. "Didn't your parents teach you not to barge in on someone in the refresher?"

"You're one to talk!" she growled back, "And I didn't have any parents, and neither did you!"

He heard the door click shut. He hoped he hadn't just upset her even more. "No, I - " Obi Wan grumbled as he rushed to towel off, wrapped the towel around his waist and dashed out the door to explain himself to her.

He looked around the room, trying to find where she had run off to, hoping she hadn't just decided to leave him locked up in there after all, but stopped in his tracks as he spotted her leaning against the wall right outside the refresher with a coy smile on her face, drumming her fingers in impatience against her arm. And, he knew immediately why she was so amused and cursed to himself as he realized it was at his cost, once again.

She had changed into a tight black floor length gown with a plunging neckline that stopped right above her navel, and it showed off her assets _very_ well. And the look on her face said that she knew it, too.

"Manners, Obi Wan, you don't keep a lady waiting," she teased him. She was having way too much fun with this, and it was only morning. Obi Wan could tell it was going to be an exhausting day.

"Ventress, did you get all dressed up just for me?," he quipped back, and turned towards the dresser to pick out his clothes for the day.

"Of course I did, don't tell me you forgot about our date already," Ventress chided him.

"I didn't know sitting in a cramped ship in hyperspace for days on end was considered a date," Obi Wan replied dryly, shuffling through the drawerful of tunics until he reached a navy blue linen one that he found tolerable.

"Oh come on, where's your imagination," she scoffed at him, rolling her eyes.

"I thought you were at work," Obi Wan smirked, as he caught her continuing to watch him dress.

"I'm watching my prisoner, this is exactly what I should be doing," she scowled, but nonetheless averted her eyes, a slight blush creeping into her pale cheeks.

Obi Wan chuckled. It was about time he got her back. "It's ok darling, no need to be embarrassed."

"Why would I be embarrassed," Ventress snapped, trying to regain dominance, "You're the one whose embarrassing. You take so long to get ready, hurry up. Or else Dooku will send one of the magnaguards in here to give you a prod from one of their electrostaffs to wake you up."

Obi Wan suspected she was just making the last part up, but quickly looked over the room for the suitcase he had reluctantly packed full of Dooku's wardrobe. Finding the brown leather case under the bed, he crouched down and retrieved it, setting it down by the door to the hallway. He turned around expectantly towards Ventress.

"Alright, ready when you are," he sighed, trying to look as agreeable as he possibly could after her fresh reminder that he was still yet a prisoner of Count Dooku.

Ventressed looked down at the suitcase and frowned. "You shouldn’t be carrying that so soon after your injury, I’ll call in a droid."

Obi Wan was again taken aback by her concern. The medical droid had said she was worried about him while he was unconscious, and she had fussed over him when he had come back from his walk with Dooku, soaking wet from the rain… She must just have a side of her that... actually cares about other people? _Or is she actually in love with me, as Dooku suspects?_

After his initial surprise. he gave her a reassuring grin. "I'm feeling quite well, darling, no need to worry. In fact," he started walking towards her, and saw her eyes flickering once over his body in suspicion, "I'm feeling strong enough I could… carry _you_!"

As quickly as he could, he bent down and wrapped his arms around Ventress's thighs, throwing her over his back and lifting her off the ground.

Ventress shrieked in frustration as she pounded on his back with her fists, "You are an insufferable thick-headed brat and I regret ever worrying about your well being!" 

“Ah, but you do worry about me, how kind, my sweet,” he teased her, and ran a hand up and down her thigh in affection. If she noticed, she didn’t seem to protest.

Obi Wan struggled under her weight, he wasn't quite at full strength yet but he didn't dare admit that to her. Slowly, he turned and faced the door and started carrying her towards it, while she continued wailing on him, kicking her feet now that made painful contact with his shins.

He halted once he reached the door. "I suppose I have to let you down so you can unlock the door."

"You're damn right," Ventress huffed from over his shoulder.

After he put her down, she straightened out her dress so that it fell in graceful folds down her torso once again. She paused and then turned towards him, pointed a finger at him in warning.

"Don't say a word about what happened last night to _anyone,_ ok?" she glared at him.

Obi Wan snorted. “Who would I tell? Dooku? The droids?”

She ignored him and palmed open the door, and Obi Wan picked up his suitcase, following her out. He caught her waiting for him, looking back over her shoulder. When his eyes met hers, she smiled, and only then did she continue walking.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Asajj Ventress knew all about how to appear dignified - after all, she _was_ a revered queen of Rattatak, and a representative of the Confederacy of Independent Systems. She was a true professional – a well-mannered diplomat, an ice cold killer, and her skills and senses as sharp as a needle. She had the ability to charm, intimidate, and impress all those who she had the displeasure of doing business with. And she was _not_ going to let a scruffy looking Jedi who looked like he normally didn’t wash his robes tarnish her reputation after _one night_ of - ok, _really good_ sex _-_ so good she couldn’t stop thinking about it. And wondering when it was going to happen again.

It had been _years_ since anyone had been so kind and attentive to her, had the ability to be both rough when he needed to be and gentle when she least expected it - the way he touched her, with such care and awe while running his hand all over her body in such an obscene manner - she felt a shiver run up her spine just thinking about it, and had to distract herself to keep her composure.

She activated her private commlink to Count Dooku. “Master, reporting in. I’m taking the prisoner to the landing platform.”

Normally she hated it when people commed her this early in the morning but she knew Dooku would be awake. The man went to bed absurdly early and arose at an equally ghastly hour. Which is why she felt safe flirting with Kenobi at night, but during the daytime... she felt nauseous at the thought of Dooku sensing anything between her and Kenobi through their bond as Master and apprentice. Luckily it wasn’t a very strong bond since they had only been together for a short time - it was nothing like the bond she had had with her former master. And when that had been severed...

“I’m already there, Ventress,” the resonant voice replied from the other end disapprovingly, and Ventress felt her gut churn with fear. “I’m glad you managed to get your prisoner to behave, but be mindful of your timeliness on this mission. This was something _you_ brought on us, and I have much more pressing needs that need attending to. Don’t test my patience. Your tardiness in completing this mission could cost us the war.”

“Yes, Master,” Ventress hastily apologized, “If Kenobi is not convinced in our pre-appointed timeframe, I will not waste time in trying to change him. We will do what we must.”

She glanced at Kenobi, hoping he understood the severity of their situation. He merely looked down at his feet, carrying his suitcase in front of him, mouth in a pinched line of either concentration, worry, or pain. She really hoped the suitcase wasn’t hurting him, and that picking her up (a stupid act, really) hadn’t hurt him either. She hated seeing Kenobi weak like this. She wanted to see him at full strength, the two of them equally matched, dancing with their sabers, feeling the thrill of the hunt, not knowing whether she, the predator, or he, the prey would be the one to die. Kill or be killed. That was her world, the laws she lived by. Anything else was inconsequential.

Like what happened last night. Soon she would forget all about it, it would be a distant memory and his touch would no longer affect her thoughts, infect her mind, cripple her ability to do her job.

She heard her commlink beep as it turned off, and she let out a sigh. “He gets up so absurdly early,” she lamented.

“If this morning is any indication,” Obi Wan huffed slightly as he walked, “You don’t sleep in much either.”

“Not unless I’m in my own bed,” Ventress frowned, “I can sleep in until mid-rotation on my off days though.”

“Didn’t think Dooku was the type to give vacations,” Obi Wan commented, as they approached the hangar bay.

“It’s wise to give your assassin a vacation,” Ventress noted, “Good for your longevity.”

Obi Wan raised his eyebrows, “I concede, that is a very good point,” he said smiling at her, “Maybe I’ll let you have a vacation while we’re on Rattatak, you can take a break from watching your prisoner, in return I’ll watch out for myself.”

“Nice try,” Ventress scoffed, her face turning into a grimace as she spotted Dooku on the landing platform, next to the gold interstellar sloop they would be taking. The blood screamed in her veins to turn the other way, run away from her shame and disgrace, from the disappointment and judgment radiating off her master. But her discipline kept her walking forward, head on to meet her challenge.

 

 

* * *

 

 

The tension between Dooku and Ventress was palpable. Obi Wan could clearly see the patronizing disappointment in Dooku’s face – he sure hoped that wasn’t the look _he_ always had around Anakin when the boy would do something wrong – he made a mental note to check himself around Anakin to make sure he never looked at Anakin that way because it was chilling. Ventress, however, held herself with poise and dignity, standing tall and looking Dooku directly in the eyes, shutting off her true emotions of hurt pride and shame. He knew her feelings even without the Force because that was the exact look that Anakin had in his eyes when he messed up too – oh stars, he missed his padawan and was suddenly very very aware of how much he could have hurt him over the years with his disapproval. He felt a pang of guilt. He wanted to rush back and apologize to Anakin so badly, make sure Anakin knew how much he appreciated him… maybe this separation was good, in a way. It helped him reflect and be appreciative of what he had at the temple.

“Ventress, Kenobi,” Dooku nodded at them in greeting. “I trust you slept well?”

Ventress shifted ever so slightly in embarrassment, and Kenobi looked from her to Dooku.

 “Yes, Ventress was very hospitable and I slept very well, thank you,” Obi Wan told Dooku with an innocuous smile. He could practically feel Ventress seething in anger next to him.

Ventress forced a thin smile and replied, “Yes, I am quite well rested and prepared for the journey. Checked the forecast and no solar flares today so everything should go smoothly.”

 _Changing the subject quite smoothly,_ Obi Wan mused in approval. Ventress was very tactful. Something Anakin could learn from, he found himself thinking out of habit.

“Good,” Dooku replied curtly, and looked from Ventress to Obi Wan. “Well, I hope for both your sakes this mission goes well. It would devastate me if I had to carry out the contingency plan for it’s failure. But we are at war, I have no other choice,” Dooku spread his hands out in resignation. “I do wish you two the best,” he said, wrinkling his brows in concern. “Take care of each other,” he said, looking intently from one to the other, as if reinforcing secrets between each of them.

“I will, Master,” Ventress replied, taking Kenobi by the arm to close the conversation.

“ _We_ will,” Obi Wan told Dooku, looking him in his cold grey eyes. Dooku stared back, inspecting him.

“Good, good,” he said in dismissal, nodded, and walked back towards his castle, cape billowing in the mountain breeze.  

Obi Wan felt Ventress adjust her grip on his sleeve. “Let’s go,” she spoke up softly, and drew him towards the ramp of the sloop.

He grimaced as he recalled the last time he had seen one of these ships up close. Geonosian design and resembling sharp bean pods, he had a vivid memory of seeing one of these as the last thing before losing consciousness on the ground of the cave on Geonosis where he and Anakin had fought the Count. The horrible day when Anakin had lost his arm and he was afraid he was going to lose his padawan. The terrible day when the Clone Wars began and the Jedi temple stopped being a place of peace and protection, but of politics and duty. The day when he realized his padawan had not returned from Naboo without forming attachments with the senator he was duty bound to protect, attachments that he knew still lingered… he knew his padawan was capable of not letting those attachments get in the way of his job, however, so he deemed it prudent to leave things be. _If I_ did _end up getting close to Ventress, I could do the same,_ he tried to rationalize with himself. But he stopped the thought in its tracks. Padme was a republic senator, Asajj was a separatist assassin who had killed many comrades. It was not the same at all.

The interstellar sloop was relatively small and simple, a row of benches on either side and a round transparisteel cockpit that housed two chairs. A couple doors in the walls that he assumed were a refresher and closet. Compartments for storage. Asajj led him up to the cockpit and let go of his arm as she took the pilot’s seat. She wiped her palms on the skirt of her dress. Sweating. She must have been more nervous than she appeared meeting with Dooku.

She activated the launch sequence, and the ramp rose and slid shut at the back of the ship.

“You didn’t want to bring a droid to fly for us?” Obi Wan asked out of curiosity. If he had the choice, he always preferred not to fly. Anakin on the other hand, loved to fly. He wondered what Ventress’s sentiments about flying were.

A wry grin spread across her face. “A droid’s memory can be hacked. This is an extremely confidential mission. I don’t mind flying. Especially with this view.”

Obi Wan looked out the spherical viewport and couldn’t help but agree. The jutting snow-capped mountain ranges of Serreno were beautiful in the morning star rays, birds flew past them, becoming dots beneath them as they rose, dark trees dotting the landscape, crystalline lakes with morning mist still rising.

He smiled at her. “You’re right,” and they just sat in silence for a few minutes, as Ventress navigated through the atmosphere.

It was a comfortable silence, and Obi Wan felt himself calming down, his heart rate slowing from the initial shock of having to see Dooku and the interstellar sloop first thing in the morning. Quite unpleasant. He looked over at Ventress, carefully studying the navicomputer and steering the ship, all while dressed like she was going to a gala. Sunbursts danced across her pale skin, reflected off the metallic dashboard of the ship. She was… beautiful. It was not the first and he had a feeling not the last time he would be overcome with emotion while staring at her.

As they broke atmosphere, Ventress programmed in the hyperspace coordinates. Kenobi took extra care to commit those coordinates to memory. He had no idea how long he’d be able to remember them, but it was worth the chance, if he could indeed get in touch with the Republic anytime soon…

“Preparing to jump to hyperspace,” Ventress announced, and Obi Wan nodded, bracing himself in his chair for the inevitable force the jump would throw on him. He felt himself get pushed back in his chair as the sky turned into star streaks of white on blue. After adjusting to the increased momentum, he turned back to look at Ventress. She was already staring at him, presumably watching to see if he was ok after the jump. _Stars, that woman worries about me a lot._

“It’s just us now,” Obi Wan said with a smile, cautiously hopeful about what their alone time would entail.

“Yes, it is,” Ventress responded, amused, coyly crossing her legs, draping the fabric of her long dress so it fell in a waterfall down her legs off the side of the chair. “What do you want to do, now that we’re alone?” she asked, idly tracing a pattern of swirls on her thigh.

He wasn’t sure if it was a trap or a veiled request. She either wanted more of what they had last night or she was teasing him, torturing him, leading him on only to use her position of dominance to shut him down, deny, humiliate, even punish…

“How about breakfast?”, Obi Wan inquired, playing it safe for now. He though he saw disappointment ghost her features, before she nodded and conceded.

“That is a good idea,” she said as she rose, and walked towards the back of the ship. “Follow me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soooo sorry it's been so long!!! I wanted something of more significance to happen in this chapter but nothing really did but hey at least they're in the ship together now so PROGRESS.


	5. What is Love / Baby Don't Hurt Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ventress and Obi Wan learn about each other's pasts.

Ventress pulled out a couple tray tables from under the benches, one for her, one for Kenobi. She started the hot water and toaster, crammed it with a couple crumpets (Kenobi seemed like the crumpet type) and crossed her arms, closing her eyes and calming herself down for a bit as she breathed in the aroma of their breakfast heating up. Despite what her appearance may suggest, she was terrified to be alone with Kenobi. She wasn’t much of a conversationalist, and trying to find something to do for two days in hyperspace with someone she was supposed to have a diplomatic relationship with but whom she used to try to murder and now seemed to like sleeping with was going to be complicated.

_It’s all worth it, and so are you,_ he had told her, and her stomach coiled as she recalled that day, clutching a bleeding Obi Wan, cradling his head in her arms after he had lost consciousness, squeezing her eyes shut and yelling at him not to die on her, not yet, not before she had answers. Helping the droids lift him up onto the medical transport, sitting next to him in the ship as the droids stitched up his wounds, her clothes and hands covered in his blood, staring blankly. Her heart ached, and her soul hungered – for more, she needed to know more – how could he possibly see anything worth saving in her? How could any Jedi?

Because if he could see something good still left in her, perhaps her old Master could have too. If he was still alive. Maybe he would have fought tooth and nail to bring her home, back with him, away from the dark, instead of leave her as she had always assumed. Leave her in the dark, just as the Jedi order left him to rot on Rattatak. Although she fought for revenge in his memory, she had done things so terrible she was convinced that if her Master were alive today he would hate her. It didn’t matter though, because she was fighting for the justice he deserved but was too kind to seek for himself. The world was cruel, it did not reward goodness. She knew that, and stopped trying.

The toaster clicked, snapping Ventress out of her reverie. Her senses were now clouded with a gray sheen – a coldness, sluggishness, that always seemed to come over her when she thought of her old Master. She tried to steel her face and hide it from Obi Wan, as she brought him his food and tea.

“Thank you,” he said to her smiling, as she wordlessly placed his meal on his tray table.

She slid into her seat, and held her steaming cup of hot water in her hands, warming herself. She felt Obi Wan’s gaze on her.

“Are you alright, Asajj?” he asked quietly, furrowing his brows.

“I’m fine,” she said curtly, focusing on watching the vapor rise from her cup.

“You’re not, I can tell.”

“Then why did you ask.”

He conceded silently, busying himself with steeping his tea instead.

_Stupid, he was only trying to help¸_ Ventress chided herself, _why do you have to push him away?_ She sighed.

“Some bad memories, that’s all,” she confessed, “You might see me like this a lot on this trip. I haven’t been back to Rattatak in a long time.”

Obi Wan frowned, stirring some sugar into his tea. “I’m sorry, do you want to talk about it?”

“I never want to talk about it.”

“But you’re going to have to, anyways, right? As part of your mission.”

“I suppose.”

“You can tell me, Asajj. I won’t judge you. Your burdens are my burdens.”

Ventress felt a spark of warmth at hearing those words. Like striking a match almost enough to light it, having it flare up with orange heat and then die back down as soon as it flared to life. _Maybe next time, it would stick…_

She looked at him, his blue eyes soft with concern, with sincerity. What she was about to tell him would be an attack on the Jedi Order, his entire life. But his eyes told her he wanted to know. He wanted the raw truth. Her truth.

She hesitated, not ready to speak first. “What were your Jedi trials like, Kenobi?”

Obi Wan seemed taken by surprise, and his eyes grew downcast and sorrowful as he answered her, nonetheless. “My Master was killed by a Sith on Naboo while we were defending the planet from an attack. I killed the Sith, in a moment of anger. But when I regained composure, I promised my Master I would raise Anakin, take him on as my padawan in his stead. We had just found Anakin, a force-sensitive child, earlier that week. I became a Jedi knight that same day, took on my first padawan, and that was my trial.” He blinked heavily and looked up at her. “Why do you ask?”

Shocked, Ventress had to take a moment to let it all sink in. So Obi Wan had lost his Master too, but he had turned out to be a model Jedi. And look at her. She felt angry at him, for being so perfect. And she felt maybe just a bit scared, knowing that he had killed a full-fledged Sith before. She took a deep breath, and remembered that he had force-restraining cuffs on and no lightsaber. _I’m in control here, I’m in no danger,_ she reassured herself.

And she looked back up into those kind, pained eyes and realized she had nothing to be afraid of, nothing to hide. This man was pure kindness towards her, despite it being the stupidest thing in the galaxy to do.

“I think it’s cruel to play off tragedy as a rite of passage,” she bit out. “A twisted masochistic Order keeping it’s members miserable, telling them to cut off emotion so they can bear it.”

“Tragedy and fortune co-exist in the Force as natural entities,” Obi Wan answered her gravely, “It cannot be avoided. We must face it without fear or loathing, and if managing our emotional response makes it easier to bear then I don’t see why it is a bad thing.”

“If you’re able to, sure,” she retorted, heatedly. “But how many people do you think fail? How many fall short and then are merely broken and scarred from it?”

She paused, gathering up courage, and Obi Wan was silent.

“My Jedi trial was similar to yours. But I failed mine,” she replied, tersely.

Obi Wan’s eyes widened at her admission. “You were a Jedi,” he concluded, quietly.

“Used to be,” Ventress emphasized, bitterly. “I was trained outside the temple, raised by a stranded Jedi on Rattatak named Ky Narec.” She laughed, dryly. “At that time, I would have done anything to be able to live at the temple, be around other padawans like myself. Instead, it was just us. He was shipwrecked, and the Order decided he wasn’t worth the effort to rescue or bother looking for. He accepted his fate, of course, being the good Jedi he was. He rescued me when my slave master was killed, noticing I was force-sensitive, and trained me as his own padawan.” Her eyes grew blurry. “He was the closest thing I ever had to a father. He had nothing, and yet he gave me what little he had to raise me. He was killed by pirates, protecting the people of Rattatak. He died in my arms. I was only sixteen. I killed them all. But unlike you, I never stopped.”

Obi Wan’s eyes shone and his lips parted in abject horror.

“If you feel sorry for me, don’t,” she said, wrinkling her nose, sniffling now to keep the tears at bay.

“How can I not? You must have been so alone,” Obi Wan replied, brows furrowed in concern. “What about your family?”

“My family is from Dathomir. They gave me up into slavery as a baby to save the clan. I never knew them.”

“Stars, Ventress,” Obi Wan breathed in astonishment, shaking his head and stroking his beard. A nervous habit, she presumed. He must be uncomfortable hearing so much about her life. It tended to have that effect on people.

“You see why I don’t like talking about this, now,” she told him with a wry smile. She felt exposed now, like an open wound without a bandage. An eyesore for others, and a vulnerability for herself.

“I’m glad you told me,” he responded, “And I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be, it’s in the past.”

“No, but I’m part of the order that left your Master, when I get back to the temple, I’ll demand answers, see if there was a good reason or –“

“Obi Wan, stop,” Ventress glared at him, furious, with tears in her eyes. “I don’t want to know.” _Because if there was a good reason for leaving him there, all my rage will have been for naught. All my life’s purpose since his death will have been false._

Obi Wan studied her face for a moment and nodded. “I understand.”

_No, you don’t,_ she thought, enraged, _you’re perfect. How could you._

“If it hadn’t been for Anakin to be my anchor, my purpose after my Master’s death, I often wonder if I would have gone down the same path as you have,” he admitted quietly. He looked up at her. “Even before I learned all this about you, I used to look at you and see myself. I think it’s what drew me to you in the first place.”

“Well that’s not very flattering,” Ventress remarked with a wry smile, trying to lighten the mood and change the subject. “I liked to think you were drawn to me for my ass.”

Obi Wan chuckled, and rubbed his temples in disbelief as his face turned red.

_Guilty,_ Ventress concluded with satisfaction.

She liked making him laugh. In fact, she knew they both did. She always looked forward to seeing him in battle and exchanging words, she liked his sense of humor and resilience, the challenge of fighting him, being equally matched. They were, in a way, the perfect pair.

Her heart ached for what could have been. Perfectly matched in every way except mortal enemies in this war. And then there was the whole Jedi no attachment thing. It was a shame, really.

“You are very striking, physically, that did not escape my notice,” Obi Wan admitted, stroking his beard again and turning beet red.

Ventress smiled, victorious. She collected her plates and her tea and set them down in the sink. Then she reached over for Obi Wan’s. “If you’re done here…”

“Wait,” he stopped her, holding up a hand, “I’ll take care of that later.”

Instead he stood, facing her, a determined look on his face, and wrapped his arms around her shoulders in a tight hug. Ventress felt like she couldn’t breathe, his warmth, his scent, this overwhelming and comforting emotion radiating off him in the Force – was it – love?

Shaking, she wrapped her own arms around his waist in return. She felt his ribs expand and contract with each breath, his heart pounding alongside hers. He squeezed tighter, and she was completely enveloped by him, she couldn’t see anything but him, could barely breathe now, “Obi Wan,” she croaked, trying to push away now.

He relented, just a tiny bit, and she took a shuddering breath in. He rested his chin on her shoulder and whispered, “You deserved so much better.”

“Why don’t you hate me?” Ventress asked, mystified. “I belong to the same order that killed your Master. You should hate me.”

Obi Wan leaned back and looked at her, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “You’re not a Sith yet, young one,” he said with a smirk, “And I’m going to do everything in my power to make sure you don’t become one.”

Ventress stared at him in disbelief, her mood instantly fouled, and her eyes narrowed. “What?”

“I’m not giving up on you Asajj,” Obi Wan replied resolutely, “I’m going to fight for you to return to the light. You deserve more than pain, punishment, servitude and doing some Dark Lord’s bidding. I don’t want you to throw your life away.”

“This is what I _want_ ,” Ventress exclaimed, shaking her head and drawing back from him, “I need to become a Sith in order to gain the power I need to exact my revenge on the Jedi Order. Why would I want anything else? For once I have a clear goal, a clear way to attain it, and I will _not_ let the likes of _you_ ruin it for me!”

“I don’t think that’s what you really want though,” Obi Wan replied, shaking his head.

Ventress rolled her eyes. “And please, do tell me, what is it I really want, since you know me so well?” she remarked dryly.

“Love,” he began softly, and Ventress snorted. “Caring. Compassion. Belonging. You want someone who cares about you and not just about how useful you are to them. You want someone who will be proud of you, encourage you, call you their own. These are things that Dooku will never give you, you already know this. Even _I_ could already see this in the short time I’ve spent with you.”

Ventress froze, and felt as if there were cracks forming in her mind, splitting her in two. She felt dizzy, as if the ground was wavering beneath her.

“You want your old Master back, Ventress,” he told her in a somber voice. “Everything you’ve been doing since his death has either been a quest to keep his memory alive, or to find a replacement. I’m sorry if you haven’t realized this already.”

Ventress felt her face grow hot, pressure building as tears threatened to flow. Her body started shaking as she fought back sobs. She couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think. _No, no!_

Obi Wan placed his hand gently on her back. His eyes were filled with concern. “Breathe darling,” he instructed her, “Please.”

She hated him. She hated him so much. His calm demeanor. His ability to see right through her, to know her better than she knew herself. His stupid hand that felt so warm and kind on her back, so much so that it made her want to cry all the more.

“It’s ok to cry,” he urged her, “I won’t judge you.”

“Not… in front… of you,” she gritted out, trying to tear herself away from his grip, but failing as he reeled her back into his embrace.

“ _Especially_ in front of me, darling, I’m sorry, I’m the one who made you cry,” he exclaimed, rubbing her back harder now.

Ventress still resisted, shaking her head furiously now.

 “Please, darling, don’t bottle this inside, don’t feel like you have to carry this alone,” he pleaded, growing slightly frantic now.

When she still didn’t give in, he hesitated for a moment, and seemed as if he struggled to speak. Finally, he closed his eyes and drew her in close to his chest, “I love you,” he implored, in a frail whisper.

Ventress snapped her head up to look at him, eyes wide in shock, and found that his were terrified. She tried to speak but only a pitiful wet choking noise escaped, and she quickly buried herself in his shoulder as sobs poured out of her at last. Obi Wan seemed to relax, and cradled her head against his chest.

“That’s it my sweet,” he sighed in relief, “You’re okay.”

Ventress gasped for air and her chest heaved violently, sobs starting out almost silent but increasing in volume and hysteria. All the while Obi Wan ran his fingers up and down her back, finding the notches in her spine, gently caressing her while riding the tempestuous waves of her cries.

“I hate you,” she wailed, as she sobbed even harder now, and reached her arms around him to grip his tunic so hard she could swear it would tear Dooku’s fine linens. “You’re ruining my life.”

“I know,” he replied, simply. “I know.”

 

* * *

 

 

It’s not that Obi Wan had never loved anyone before, he had, plenty. It’s just that, he had never _said_ it. It was unbecoming of a Jedi, he thought, people might get the wrong idea. It was a loaded word, mostly reserved for romantic couples, and it was best if he stay clear of it in any of his relations. There were plenty of other ways to express your deep care and affection for someone.

Or at least there were, until the moment he realized that he had just upended Ventress’s entire life, had left her hollow and exposed while her life’s purposed had burned up like a meteorite before her eyes. If he was truly to ask her to turn her life around, if he was truly going to be there with her each step of the way, he had to jump in and take a risk himself. So he did. And it was the most terrifying thing he had ever done.

_I’m done for,_ he thought in horror, _Now that she knows, she could easily take advantage of that fact. I hope I was right in trusting her._

But as he looked at the sobbing woman in his arms, the woman who had saved his life only a few days ago, cared for him while he remained a prisoner of his enemies, he felt foolish for even thinking that. This woman deserved love, so much more than she had been shown in her life, so much more than he feared he was capable of giving her.

Her breathing had evened out somewhat, and Obi Wan slowly guided her over to the bench and sat her down. Her eyes and nose were bright pink and puffy, and she didn’t look at him, only stared at her hands, and wiped away her tears. Obi Wan went to the refresher, and returned with some tissues for her.

“Thank you,” she muttered, as she took them from him.

He then searched the compartments under the benches for a blanket. Eventually he found one, sage green, and wrapped it around her shoulders. She didn’t react, just sat still, sniffling, with a crumpled up tissue in her hand.

He then searched the cabinets he had seen her pull the teacups from earlier, and grabbed a drinking glass from it that he filled up for her using the water dispenser in the wall. He brought it back to her and placed the glass in her hand.

“Drink, you need to stay hydrated,” he urged her.

She eyed the glass warily, but slowly brought it to her lips and took a few tentative sips, before placing it back down next to her. _Well, better than nothing,_ Obi Wan thought.

“Stop looking at me, I look hideous,” Ventress sighed, as she covered here eyes with her hand and leaned back on the bench. With her other hand though, she drew the blanket in closer around her.

“It’s nothing to be ashamed of,” Obi Wan reassured her.

“Just go, I need to be alone for a while,” Ventress commanded him, not opening her eyes.

“As you wish, darling,” Obi Wan sighed, rising from his seat.

Fortunately for him, the only other place left to go in the ship was the cockpit. Which was where he wanted to be, anyways.

The round bubble-like room was dark save for the glowing screens and buttons on the console, and star streaks flying past them in the viewport. He glanced over his shoulder to make sure Ventress couldn’t see him, and took the pilot’s seat.

He inspected the controls. Unfortunately, he didn’t know Geonosian so he couldn’t read the labels. And he didn’t have a droid he could ask to translate either. He sighed. He could see their trajectory on the screen, but the units of measurement were foreign to him, and even if he did know where they were, he didn’t know how much fuel they had, what type of fuel they would need, and what the fuel efficiency would be – there were just _so_ many factors involved in flying. He stroked his beard in concentration, weighing his options. Should he try and reprogram the navicom for somewhere that would get them closer to Coruscant, make a guess, and hope for the best? Or would it be easier to try and operate the comm system instead?

One wrong move, and it could be deadly. But it was his only shot at saving himself… and Ventress.

He placed a hand on a green backlit dial, pondering, wishing he had the Force to guide him.

“Don’t even think about it,” a low voice drawled behind him, causing him to jump in surprise.

He turned, and found Ventress silently glowering at him in the dark.

He tried to crack a lighthearted smile. “Wow, Ventress, you really _are_ good at sneaking up on people.”

“What were you trying to do?” she continued, unamused, and pointed at the green dial he had been hovering over. “Change the gravity inside the ship?” She pointed to another one. “Or maybe the oxygen levels?”

_So_ that’s _what those did,_ Obi Wan thought, heart sinking. He was totally off. He could have gotten them killed by messing with the controls. _So much for any chance of escape now…_

He felt a hand grip his shoulder and spin him around, so he was facing Ventress now, who leaned over him still, the folds of her dress spilling elegantly across her shoulders and chest. She looked like a dream, here in the dark, fact lit by the greens and reds of the control panel, her skin dotted by light of the star streaks outside. Her face wore an expression of frustration, but also hurt.

“Will you just trust me, Kenobi?” she implored him, her brow ridges wrinkling in concern.

He thought carefully about how to construct his answer.

“I do trust you,” he started slowly, “I just think we have two different goals in mind. And they’re not compatible.”

“If we jump out of hyperspace here, who knows where we’ll be,” she bit out, disregarding him, “Serenno is across the Galaxy from Rattatak, we could pop out in the middle of the mid or core regions, where it would be impossible to avoid detection, much less avoid the potential of a collision when we exit. If you _must_ intend on escaping, you’d be better off waiting until we near Wild Space in the Western Reaches, in other words,” she turned off the navigation screen for emphasis, “Just wait until we get to Rattatak.”

Obi Wan toyed with his beard thoughtfully. “Are you aiding a prisoner of war in his escape, Commander?”, he raised an eyebrow, provocatively. “That would constitute as treason in most systems, would it not?”

Ventress crouched down so her eyes were the same level as his. “First of all, even if you tried to escape, you wouldn’t succeed, because I wouldn’t let you. Second of all, there is no law against giving my stupid friend some advice, which he should already know due to common sense,” she grit out, caustically.

“While you’re giving me advice,” Obi Wan turned to the control panel, gesturing at the array of levers and buttons laid on in front of him, “Mind telling me how to use this thing?”

“Enough!” Ventress barked at him, and yanked him out of the seat by his arm. He winced as a jolt of pain shot through his shoulder as he was pulled up into a standing position. Ventress looked remorseful for a second, and smoothed out the fabric on his sleeve where she had grabbed him. She looked back into his eyes and commanded him, emphatically, “You’re not allowed in the cockpit anymore. Go.”

He took a few steps up the hall towards the cabin but looked back once he realized she wasn’t following him.

She looked up at him, arms crossed over her body, “I told you I needed some time alone,” she said with an exasperated look. “I’ll stay here, go.”

Obi Wan reluctantly re-entered the cabin. His eyes had to re-adjust to the light in there. He saw the crumpled blanket on the ground where he had wrapped it around Ventress. Her tissue was still on the bench. More immediately though, his cup and plate were still on the table, and he had promised her he would put it away himself later, so he did. While he was at it, he decided to straighten up the cabin in general, as he had nothing better to do. He folded up the blanket and placed it on the bench and picked up the tissue so he could dispose of it.

When he did though, he noticed something dark, scrawled across the tissue in ink. Puzzled, he unfolded it, tear stained and torn, to see a message written in black ink in neat flourishing handwriting: “I love you too.”

His heart nearly stopped. He clutched the message in his hand and practically ran to the cockpit where Ventress was sitting in the pilot’s seat, idly gnawing at her nails, her eyes flashing with fury as he barged in. “I _said_ , you’re not allowed in –” she started in frustration, but Obi Wan held up a finger to silence her and showed her the crumpled tissue in the other hand.

“Is this true?” he demanded breathlessly – confused, delighted, and terrified.

“Why would I write it if it wasn’t?” she glared at him, her fingers digging into her arms anxiously.

Obi Wan bent over to scoop her up from the pilot’s chair, and she shrieked as he picked her up, wrapping her arms around his neck. He was laughing. He couldn’t help but laugh at the sheer ridiculousness of the situation. “What’s so funny?” Ventress growled at him, perplexed but not angry.

He let her down feet first and she let go of his neck, whirling around to face him, arms crossed. He stepped in closer and put his hands on her shoulders. “You love me too,” he murmured softly, drawing in closer so their noses were almost touching.

“Shhh, don’t say it out loud,” Ventress shushed him frantically, seemingly embarrassed, only serving to make Obi Wan laugh again.

“But why not?” he asked her, amused. Their bodies were flush against each others again, warmth emanating from her body beneath his hands, their heartbeats palpable, their breathing barely audible over the hum of machinery.

“Because I don’t feel like talking right now,” she said softly, and pulled him in by the back of his neck, claiming his lips with hers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know how to name chapters seriously so if I gotta name it with memes to help me remember what happens in what chapter I'm gonna, lol. But eek, this is a big chapter!! I'm really happy and terrified with how it turned out but I'm so excited to share it. Hope you enjoyed it!


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